After Zion went feral, he could no longer distinguish friend from foe—he attacked anything that moved. His blood-red eyes saw only one image: Addison.
anwhile, Shura’s massive fra slamd into a thick tree during his wild charge, the impact cracking the trunk with a deafening snap. The tree creaked ominously before slowly toppling over, but Shura didn’t stop—he only pushed harder, his speed increasing as he tore through the forest.
Then, he caught the scent of his Beta. A low, dangerous growl rumbled from deep in Shura’s chest.
Sensing the danger, Beta Greg didn’t wait—he turned and ran. But no matter how much he tried, his wolf refused to co out. He couldn’t shift. His desperate calls to his wolf were t with silence, as if it had already accepted its fate, ready to die at the hands of its Alpha without resistance.
"Fuck!!!" Beta Greg swore, panic surging through him. He didn’t spare a second thought for the warriors still standing or even Gamma Levi, unconscious on the ground. His only focus was escaping.
He knew the truth—once Shura got his hands on him, it was over. The heavy, iron scent of blood that clung to Shura’s body was unmistakable even from ters away. Greg’s stomach turned, his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t need to be told; Zion had gone to the dungeon.
What caused Zion to suddenly decide to go down to the dungeon? Greg didn’t know. But the bloodstains, the sll that still lingered in the air—he’d tried to cover it up, tried to erase it.
Even sent soone to handle it. But with the ti they had? No way the oga cleaning the dungeon could finish in ti. Zion had seen it all. Greg had failed. And now, there was nothing left but to face the consequences.
Oh, shit. Now that Shura had gone feral, Greg knew he was as good as dead. Zion would be coming for his head, and just the thought of it sent a chill down his spine. He didn’t need to think twice—he knew exactly how ruthless Zion could be and what awaited him when the Alpha got his hands on him. His only option? Run for his life. And that’s exactly what he did.
"Fuck, fuck, damn it!!! I need to get out of the pack’s territory. I don’t care if I go rogue after this—what matters is surviving now. I’ll figure the rest out later!" Beta Greg cursed, pushing himself harder, his legs pumping beneath him.
But in his panic, he had forgotten one crucial fact. As a mber of Zion’s pack, he was bound to the Alpha by the tether of loyalty that every wolf swore upon joining or when they were born in his territory, where their parents were part of the pack.
Zion could track him anywhere, no matter how far he ran. That tether acted like a live tracker, and Greg had it on his back, whether he wanted it or not.
The only way to break that link was to sever his bond with the Midnight River Pack—but in his fear, Greg had completely forgotten about that. His only thought now was to escape.
This was exactly why Addison had made the difficult decision to sever her tie to the Midnight River Pack imdiately after dissolving and rejecting her mate bond. Zion, as the Alpha, would have always been able to track her every move unless she severed her connection to the pack. So, to ensure her escape, she beca a rogue.
With the scent-masking spray and the severed bond, Zion no longer had any way to trace her. She had effectively disappeared from his reach, and now, he would be forced to search for her blindly, with no clue of her whereabouts.
Roarrrr!!!
Shura’s bloodcurdling roar echoed through the entire forest, sending a chill down the spine of everyone within earshot. The very air seed to vibrate with the raw, primal fury of it.
Even the n who had been carrying Addison faltered in their steps, their gaze snapping back toward the source of the terrifying sound.
"Hurry up! We need to get out of here, now! If that beast finds us—if we’re caught trespassing in his territory—he’ll tear us apart!" one of the n urged, panic creeping into his voice.
They had successfully evaded the warriors combing the other side of the forest, who were desperately searching for soone. This was their chance to escape, but the threat of Shura hung over them like a shadow.
"I’m telling you, that beastly Alpha is out of his mind! We can’t take him on right now, not with her in tow. If we co face-to-face with him, she’s as good as dead!" The man urged, his voice laced with desperation, as he shoved the one holding Addison.
Despite the size difference—he was much shorter than the man carrying her—he pushed with all his might, willing him to move faster. They were almost at the edge of the Midnight River Pack’s territory, just a few more steps and they’d reach the clearing.
But if that feral Alpha caught up to them now, escaping wouldn’t even be an option. They’d be buried where they stood, if they were lucky enough to die quickly.
After a quick glance back, the man holding Addison’s limp form lowered his gaze to her face. Her skin was ashen, and her shallow, weak breaths made him fear that she might stop breathing any second. He tightened his grip, pulling her closer before pushing himself to run even faster.
Rustling...
The sound of leaves crunching underfoot brought both of them to an abrupt halt. They froze, instantly on alert. The smaller man darted in front of the one holding Addison, assuming a defensive posture as the other scanned the surrounding area.
They couldn’t sll any blood, nor did the air carry any trace of hostility. Still, tension coiled in his chest as he ticulously surveyed the surroundings. It could have been a small animal—a rabbit, maybe a coyote—but he wasn’t taking any chances. He would make sure the coast was clear before moving on...
"Woah! Woah!" An older man, resembling a hermit, suddenly staggered out of the bushes. The mont their eyes t, the older man froze, his body trembling with visible nerves.
He didn’t appear to be a shifter—more like a frail, starving elder, barely holding himself together. "Don’t attack! I’m not here to cause trouble..." he stamred, his voice laced with uncertainty.
His gaze flickered to the woman cradled in the man’s arms, unable to see her features, but a small patch of her skin peeked out from beneath the cloak that shielded her. The way the man held her—protective, desperate—was unmistakable. It was clear he would fight to his last breath to keep her safe.
"Who are you, and what are you doing here?" The shorter man’s voice was sharp, his eyes scanning the older man’s figure from head to toe. At first glance, the elder appeared anything but threatening—frail and worn, like a hermit starved of both food and attention.
But the mont he stepped forward, the air itself seed to shift, the tension and pressure grew.
He knew better than to underestimate the elder just because of his appearance. In this stretch of land, near the border of the werewolf territories and the vampire’s domain, anyone who lingered here had to either be dangerously reckless or possess power far beyond their looks.
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